


The Grand Tour

by elynross



Category: Little Women Series - Louisa May Alcott
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-12-21
Updated: 2005-12-21
Packaged: 2018-01-25 05:53:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,632
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1635038
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elynross/pseuds/elynross
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>On a fine day in June, Jo and her professor are given a holiday.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Grand Tour

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Gabihime

 

 

_For love is a flower that grows in any soil, works its sweet miracles undaunted by autumn frost or winter snow, blooming fair and fragrant all the year, and blessing those who give and those who receive.  
_

\--Little Men

* * *

The Grand Tour

"Don't be ridiculous, Teddy, we couldn't possibly." Mrs. Jo looked at him over the basket of socks in her lap, a sock in one hand, darning ball in the other.

Mr. Laurie fell back in his chair, glowering at her blackly, but with a betraying cheery glint in his eye, as if he'd expected nothing else. "I don't see any reason why not. I'm rich as anything, and spoiled rotten, to boot, and if I want to send you and Father Bhaer off on a jolly good holiday together, I don't see why I shouldn't!" He looked over at the man in question, who was head down on the hearth rug and growling wildly for the pleasure of his giggling youngest son.

"Help me out, Professor, your wife is being entirely unreasonable."

Mr. Bhaer tugged the laughing Teddy under his arm, tickling him madly while he looked up at Mr. Laurie with a red face and twinkling eyes. "Ach, no, I think I have enough struggling with this one small Teddy, I shan't try and interfere in the affairs of the larger one."

Mr. Laurie thought that Jo looked uncommonly smug at this, and contemplated pitching his hat at her. "It's really very selfish of you not to indulge me. And you've always wanted to go abroad, you know you have! Why won't you let me give you that?"

Mrs. Jo settled the sock on the darning ball and picked up her threaded needle. "Because there are far better things you could be doing with that money than throwing it away on us, and we have far too much to do around the school," she said, as if that answered the matter completely.

"Not good enough, Jo. Your father would be pleased as punch to take over teaching duties -- and that's only if you didn't agree to go while most of the children are on holiday themselves. Franz can assist him as well as he does the Professor, and I can easily find someone to help out with everything you yourself do around the house. I daresay your folks wouldn't mind stopping over while you're away to keep an eye on those of the tribe who have no other homes."

"Don't whine, Teddy, it's most unbecoming." She shook her head at him. "I did envy Amy her trip with Aunt Josephine, it's true, but that's ever so long ago, now, and I have responsibilities. I can't just up and go off to Europe and flit about like a young girl!" She shook her head, clucking her tongue softly.

"Oh, what _has_ happened to my wild Jo," the older Teddy said sadly. "To think that you'd lecture me on responsibility!"

Mrs. Jo laughed merrily. "I was always lecturing you so, Teddy! And besides, I'd miss them all too much," she said fondly, catching sight of a wild herd of stampeding young things as they ran down the stairs and out into the spring air.

Mr. Laurie sighed. "Well, then, give me a day."

"A day? What on earth are you talking about?"

"No, two days," he added, as if she hadn't spoken. "One day away from here, the both of you, and one day back. In... early June. Will you give me that?"

"Teddy, dear," Mrs. Jo said to her son, who had toddled up to her and was trying to grab the end of the sock she was darning. "I'm afraid that your Uncle Teddy has quite lost his wits. No, dear, you don't want that," she said, placidly handing him another sock from her basket to chew on.

"Haven't," said the man in question. "I have a plan, and you're to allow me to proceed with my plan, because if you don't, I shall be injured, and I will sulk _most_ desperately."

Mrs. Bhaer shook her head at him again, and looked over at her husband, who had rolled over to sit on the floor and regard them both. "What do you think, dear? Should we indulge him?"

Mr. Bhaer looked quite solemn, but his merry eyes betrayed him. "As he is a major benefactor of Plumfield, we do perhaps benefit by his good cheer, mine own," he said.

Mr. Laurie sat up in his chair, jabbing a finger in the Professor's direction. "There, y'see? _That's_ the kind of attitude I look for! Uncommon kind of you, Professor!"

Rolling her eyes, Jo set her basket aside to gather up a drooping Teddy, who was yawning fiercely. "And what would those two days involve?"

"No, can't tell you. Well, one day will just involve you clearing off and spending the day elsewhere, perhaps with my lovely wife, or with Marmee. Any place'll do," he said dismissively, "as long as it's not here."

"And the other day?"

"Shan't say," he said, standing up with a suspiciously bright air. "That would ruin the surprise, wouldn't it? Now, if you'll pardon me, I have to have a few words with your boys." And with that, he popped his hat back on his head at a rakish angle, swept across the floor to bow over her hand dramatically, paused to stroke a fond hand over his already-sleeping namesake's hair, and thence was out the door, calling for any and all heathens that might have a moment to spare.

Jo looked at her husband over Teddy's rosy little face. "That boy has some mischief in mind, Fritz. I'm quite terrified about what I've agreed to!"

Mr. Bhaer simply climbed to his feet and held his arms out for his sleeping cherub, keeping the thought to himself that his charming wife had never actually agreed to anything at all.

* * *

The next several weeks sped by in a furtive and suspicious blur of activity on the part of the Plumfield students. Mysterious packages arrived from Mr. Laurie, addressed to various boys who whipped them out of sight as if they might betray all if left sitting about, and the man himself visited several times a week to check on progress. Conversations were brought to a halt when Mrs. Jo walked by, projects whisked out of sight; and for some little time before the reveal she was strictly forbidden entrance to the carriage-house turned museum, or the main garden, on pain of instant and highly dramatic death, with perhaps a few lingering curses tossed about for effect. All sorts of queer activities went on in the nooks and crannies of the house; and all she saw was enough to make her madly curious without satisfying her interest.

She suspected that her husband was more apprised of the situation than she herself, as she saw him consulting with Franz quite often; and she sometimes interrupted furtive meetings between him and the other boys, who jumped like all get-out at the sight of her and hastened to stammer out some obviously concocted query about schoolwork or chores. And even Rob and wee Teddy apparently had their roles to play; more than once the older brother squelched the younger one quite vigorously as he was on the verge of divulging part of the secret -- although mostly his burblings consisted of things as vague as "wide ambinals!" and "pritty games!"

And apparently Mr. Laurie had even charmed old Asia, herself, who was seen to welcome people into her kitchen whom she normally would not have allowed to step foot. Silas was observed in deliberation with some of the older boys, and Mary Ann and Nursey Hummel both became quite adept at sweeping things out of sight when Mrs. Jo's footsteps were heard, although even their most innocent-seeming gazes were betrayed by flushed cheeks and nervous, darting glances at places of concealment.

She was really quite impressed with everyone's cunning and subterfuge, and took care to avoid anyplace that she thought might be the sight of planning and devising. It took a great deal of effort on her part to keep her eyes averted and her nosiness under control, and it must be said that she did a far better job of it than many in her place might have, given the constant level of temptation. She turned a blind eye and a deaf ear, and took care to immediately forget anything that couldn't be avoided.

All in all, it made for an invigorating few weeks, with the boys eager to get to their lessons, which seemed to have been co-opted into the plan, arguing still further for Mr. Bhaer's connivance; and equally eager to hurtle themselves from their desks, to continue whatever creative mayhem they were cooking up. However, he remained quite stubbornly and exasperatingly silent on the subject when they were alone, only smiling winsomely, and remarking that patience was a virtue that she herself had determined to cultivate in greater supply. It was really very frustrating, and utterly delightful, to see all her normally harum-scarum charges so happy and intent on their grand project; and it seemed to have a positive effect on them all, with fewer of the petty battles and weary moping on about boredom to which children were often prone.

In spite of herself, Jo's excitement grew as the date Mr. Laurie had designated approached. The last week before the equally anticipated and dreaded day was frantic, with small bodies flitting here and there, cries of both anguish and triumph equally likely to be heard, sometimes accompanied by horrid crashing noises, and once she found Demi tucked away in a corner, eyes glazed, murmuring to himself about goblins and elves and pirates. By Thursday afternoon, the day Laurie's carriage came to ferry them away, Jo was quite ready to leave, plagued equally by eager anticipation and worriment. The entire school, paste and clay in their hair, hastily-concealed mysteries shoved behind their backs, waved them off from the front porch; and thus sped on their way, the Bhaers abandoned Plumfield until the following evening.

The time spent with her family passed pleasantly enough, although Amy did have a tendency to smile rather smugly whenever conversation turned to the Bhaers' reasons for visiting, and Jo had a suspicion that everyone in the world was in on the conspiracy but her. Lovely, winsome Bess preened a bit, telling her aunt repeatedly that she had a "wee secret" that she was not allowed to tell, puckering her lips most charmingly as she laid a finger crosswise of them, to indicate that even dastardly threats would not pluck the mystery from her -- although she did allow as how her part in it was "mos' charmin'."

By the time the carriage swept them back to Plumfield, Mrs. Jo was champing at the bit to know what her boys had devised, and it was both intriguing and disappointing to find that the doors into the schoolrooms were shut tight, and there were virtually no signs of the impending surprise, barring gleeful smiles and sleepy eyes. Supper was simple, and hurried, and Asia seemed to be in a bit of a temper, muttering most uncharacteristically unflattering things about charming rascals with their sweet-talking ways. Laurie himself, who was staying overnight with daughter Bess, so as to be on-hand as the surprise unfolded, merely smiled into his soup and kept up a lively chatter with the boys about their lessons, and their plans for the summer holidays. There were many significant looks, and bitten-off words, and at least one rather bruised ankle, when Tommy suddenly turned to Ned and said, "Say, did you remember to check--" and at least three of the other boys struck at once.

What was left of the evening sped by, everyone but Jo and the youngest children clearly occupied with last-minute preparations; and it was all she could do to keep her nose to herself and not succumb at this late hour to trying to catch just the smallest glance of what was in store for to-morrow. It was like all the Christmases ever, rolled into one, and brushed with the impossibility of a true surprise party of which one already knew. That is, she knew that the next day would bring forth a grand revelation, the disclosure of a mystery weeks in the making; but she had no idea what was going to happen, or what would be required of her.

It was all both exhilarating and exhausting, and she quite readily allowed herself to be jollied off to bed at an earlier hour than normal, taking with her promises that her over-excited, gabbling household would get at least some sleep before morning, and giving her own that she would do her best to curtail her usual flitting about the house at night, barring any necessary attentions to her smallest ones. At this, Rob stoutly avowed he was a big boy, and Teddy's lip trembled a bit as he nodded in agreement, slipping his hand into Rob's slightly larger one. Still, both were relieved when they got their usual tucking-up, with kisses from both Marmar and Papa to satisfy them.

Alone with her professor, Jo took his hand, twining her fingers with his. "Fritz," she said, and he raised his eyebrow at her, tilting his head to one side.

Mrs. Jo was in fact a patient woman, far moreso than she often gave herself credit for. Her husband, on the other hand, thought her a masterpiece of forbearance and sweet temperament, and daily thanked his good Lord for whatever grace had brought her to him. In his eyes, she could do no wrong, but this did not mean that he saw her blindly; and he recognized the wheedling tone in her voice and braced himself accordingly. "Yes, dear one?"

"It does seem quite unfair that you know so much more about what we're to expect to-morrow, if it's to be a holiday for us both."

He sat down beside her, tucking her arm in his and holding her small hand in both his larger ones. "It does, does it not?" he said blandly.

She threw him a suspicious glance, looking sidelong at him. "I think you're mocking me, Professor."

He pressed one hand holding hers to his heart, rearing his head back. "I would not do such a thing, love of my life!"

She laughed, shaking her head. "Indeed you would, you wicked, wicked man!" She cupped her other hand against his cheek, drawing his head down to press her lips softly against his. "It just goes to show that you can't trust a soul in this world," she said with mock sorrow. "Fritz, I'll have you know I'm in absolute terror right this moment. Laurie has whipped our boys into a frenzy for weeks, and they've been shockingly preoccupied and well-behaved, and--"

Fritz turned his mouth into her palm, then held it against his cheek, her hands trapped to his heart and his face. "And what is it thou fearest?" he asked, falling into his more intimate style of speech that never failed to affect her deeply. "That whatever they plan will not live up to their expectations? Or to thine own? That _thou_ shalt not? That thou wilt let them down?" He shook his head at her, smilingly. "It is not possible. It is not something that thou could do, for they love thee, and thou lovest them, with thine entire, immense heart. There is nothing with which they could present thee that thou wouldst not fully love _because_ they gave it to thee. And that very acceptance, that appreciation, will make it shine for them, as well."

Jo blinked back her tears. "Oh, Friedrich. I think sometimes you think too well of me."

"That," her professor said, his love shining in his eyes, "is also a thing not possible, mine heart. You are my joy," he said simply.

* * *

Mrs. Jo kept to her side of the bargain, only rising once during the night when Teddy cried out for his lost bear, which she found at the foot of his bed. The house seemed silent as she drifted back to her own warm bed, until the silence was ruptured by a tinkling crash and a broken-off wail from down the stairs, followed by a heartfelt curse that had her torn between amusement and dismay. She waited, but no more sounds of crisis were forthcoming, just sounds of scuffling feet and murmured consultation, in which Laurie's voice figured; and so she firmly sent herself back to her room, trusting in her oldest boy's ability to deal with the chaos he himself had wrought.

Morning came as early as was its wont, and yet the Bhaers were confined to their room by their own accordance, awaiting notice that their holiday at home was ready to begin. The professor occupied himself quite happily with his morning devotions, tutting and murmuring over the day's passages; while Jo, having done her own bit of scripture in a somewhat more heedless but no less faithful fashion, attempted some of her mending, which left her with pricked fingers and a bruised temper. Finally she sat at the window, watching as some of the boys raced back and forth between the house and the museum on mysterious errands.

The knock at the door, when it came, was both tentative and hurried, and they opened the door to find Dolly, dressed in a fine suit with a simple cravat, ready to escort them. He bowed, formally, tugging at his collar. "Mr. and Mrs. Bhaer, if you would follow me, breakfast is served." He spoke slowly, deliberately, only a trace of his stutter apparent; and his relief was clear on his face as he stepped to the side to usher them out the door, closing it behind them before preceding them down the staircase.

Mrs. Jo was almost disappointed when the entryway appeared entirely as usual. The doors to the schoolrooms were shut tight, although one of them popped open as Dolly led them to the dining room, and three faces -- Demi, Tommy, and Nat, one above another, recognizable though only eyes and brows were apparent -- peered at them as they passed.

Dolly stood back for them to enter the dining room, bowing again and saying, "We welcome you to the Hotel Plumfield. We hope you will enjoy your b-breakfast."

The room itself was transformed into a place of uncommon elegance, fine linen on the table, ravishing bouquets covering the banquet and flowers cascading from shelves; and Jo felt as if she'd walked into someone else's rooms by mistake. "Oh, this is lovely!" she exclaimed, and heard an aborted cheer from the pantry.

There were places set for two, at the head and one side of the table, unlike their normal positions at the head and foot, and the benches on which the boys usually sat were entirely missing. Dolly held out Mrs. Jo's chair for her, only sliding it back under her slightly too fast, but she covered the slip easily, so as not to embarrass him. He then left through the pantry door, face nobly grim, back held rigidly straight, only to reappear moments later, leading a small train of boys, each carrying a pitcher or bowl or salver or two, gleaming white napkins folded over their suit-coated arms. By the time the waiters were through, the fine linen cloth was nearly covered by even finer china and silver, far more than was required for just the two of them, but no one else appeared to join them.

She recognized the pattern on the plates, and some of the serving dishes, as belonging to the Lawrences, and quite suspected the same hand in the floral decorations, their holdings extending to a magnificent hothouse that kept Amy in fresh flowers all winter. But as Dolly removed the lids of the covered dishes with a grand and clearly practiced flourish, it became most clear that the meal itself was entirely from the hands of her children.  
Dolly named each dish, speaking slowly and majestically, with only the occasional stutter; and Mrs. Jo was very aware of eyes taking turns to peer from the pantry to see how the lavish spread was received.

Taking a deep breath and smiling a brave smile, she allowed Dolly to fill her plate to its fullest, and made sure to try at least a bit of everything. She could only imagine the blow to Asia's pride, that such a meal issued forth from her kitchen, and wondered again how Teddy had persuaded her, although he had charm and to spare, when it came to finding his way.

Piles of small golden flapjacks sat side by side with attempts at fancy pastries that were almost edible and only partially burnt on the bottom; and to wash them down, pots of weak coffee and overly strong tea. Oatmeal and toast, eggs and bacon and sausages and tripe, and jams and jellies for bakeries full of bread, all in all enough for a not so small contingent, and all varying between under- and over-cooked, not only from dish to dish, but sometimes within the same item.

Her bountiful and eloquent praise seemed well-received, judging by the happy whispers, and she spoke with her husband of inconsequential matters, getting into the spirit of the thing by remarking aloud upon the excellent service and wealth of choices. "We really must stay here again, and recommend it to our friends, don't you think?" she asked her beaming husband.

"I do not see how we should avoid it, nor want to," he allowed, waving surreptitiously at little Bess, who chose that moment to peek around the corner. She grinned and ran away, chuckling. "And I do believe," he added, cocking an eye at the waiter hovering nervously in the background, "that it is time for our tour to continue."

He helped his wife to her feet, and they were escorted to the door by a much-relieved seeming Dolly, who handed them off to Tommy Bangs, uncommonly distinguished in his own well-fitting suit. Mrs. Jo thought to herself that when this was over, her boys would cut a remarkably fine figure at church, if they were all so well-garbed for the day's "play."

It was to both her amusement and surprise, then, when Tommy led them across the hall to the first schoolroom, where they were met by a solemn-looking "verger" who greatly resembled their Ned, a great bundle of keys hanging from his belt, and he ushered them into the confines of another room transformed, this time into the semblance of a small cathedral. White draperies formed the walls, and the windows were turned by some miracle of painted oil paper into stained glass, with pictures that taxed the brain and tickled the sides, but were charming nonetheless, and clearly made with love. The pews were benches dragged from hither and yon, and filled with most of her wild brood, all dressed up in dashing and elegant clothing.

Looking about her, Mrs. Jo recognized the fancy drapery as composed of some of her best sheets; and it is a tribute to her self-possession and fondness that barely a wince crossed her face, most of it for poor Mary Ann and Asia, who would no doubt have to be tasked for a laundry day -- or two. Demi's picture of the welcoming Christ was displayed, along with other suitable drawings, and the crowning glory was found in a cleverly-devised nook, which held a darling _pietà_ composed of a mostly-silent Teddy draped in still more sheets across the lap of a solemn, tragic Daisy, both with cheeks and hands whitened with flour paste for sculptural effect. The impact was not entirely ruined by the Madonna's tendency to use a hand on his mouth to stifle her poor dead son, who would keep trying to catch his Marmar's eye and hiss for her during the subsequent service, wanting to be sure she knew his part in the masquerade.

But the overall impression was most charming, particularly when topped off with a very serious-looking young man in a long turned-round frock coat that reached quite far below his knees, catching some of the flavor of priestly garb as long as young Demi kept his front before and did not show the pinned-up back. The service itself was sweet and simple, and thankfully short, as Jesus got quite bored not half-way through and wandered into the audience, until his less than serene Mary-mother dragged him off, having given up all thought of maintaining the play. There was a lesson, and an 'arrygory,' proclaimed with all earnestness and solemnity, about the mama and papa bears who lived in a wild wood; and took to their furry bosoms all the reckless birds and ponies, and elephants and camels and wolves that came to them, one for each of the children surrounding them; as could be told by the excitable voices that felt compelled to pipe up with "that's me!" and "me, there!"

Mrs. Jo was so moved and touched by it all that she couldn't decide whether to laugh or cry; and Papa Bhaer himself sat and beamed at his brood of younglings, and continually patted his wife's hand, tucked in the crook of his elbow, as if he were afraid he might lose her.

Towards the end of the service, young Mr. Bangs was seen to make many furtive, dramatic gestures at the sweet, slow-witted Billy, who sat off to the side, next to a large cloth-covered bundle from which issued the occasional odd sound. These signs and portents seemed to slip right by Billy, who sat and beamed at the entire congregation, nodding his head in agreement with Demi's tale. As the Bhaers rose to leave, Ned moving to the end of their row to escort them, Tommy, finally driven to distraction, hissed in a voice that was not so much a whisper as a low roar, " _Take the lid off, Billy!"_

Whereupon Billy's memory returned to him and he did as he was bid, and the entire population of Plumfield's dovecote issued into the air, panicked and near-suffocated, flailing blindly to get back to familiar ground. What was clearly intended as a thing of beauty and inspiration was instead a scene of chaos and some hilarity, as children fell over chairs, birds flew at windows, and Nan and Dan and Emil immediately started trying to catch the poor things (with the latter two boys casting a few choice glares and unspoken curses at the unfortunate Mr. Bangs) under Mr. Laurie's direction; while poor Daisy covered her head with her arms and shrieked as one stray dove tried to make a nest in her hair.

At a sign from Mr. Laurie, Ned escorted them from the church, as soon as Jo could stop the laughter that brought tears to her eyes. Not even the desperate state of her linens, subjected to the dire attentions of trapped birds, could quell her mirth until it had played through, although the mournful and disappointed faces of her children cut through where domestic pride could not. Finally she allowed herself to be led from the scene of the disaster, Mr. Bhaer's hand at her waist. "I'm sorry, Fritz, but the look on Tommy's face when he realized he'd no idea what was going to happen, and Teddy!" She shook her head, covering her mouth as laughter threatened to spill forth again. "There's another one who had no idea what he was getting himself into. And the day's barely begun!"

* * *

The gardens were calm and restful after the bedlam of the "cathedral," and the warm sunlight played softly over them as they strolled behind Ned. Kind Dick Brown met them once they moved past the children's vegetable plots, Mrs. Jo's queer Japanese umbrella in hand, to shade her from the sun. Handing them off to Dick, Ned left at a dead run for the carriage house, clearly leaving the capturing of birds to lesser hands, intent on his own tasks.

Dick let them wander where they would, only steering them if he seemed to feel they would miss out on some new feature of the gardens, or if they veered too closely to one particular area newly hedged off by a stone wall with trailing vines. The time she'd been banned from the area had clearly been put to good use, and once again Mrs. Jo saw Mr. Laurie's extravagant hand in the changes, though many were also obviously brought about by small, eager hands. New plantings were everywhere, shrubs and trees and flowers, although the order was somewhat varied and perhaps contrary to that suggested by the best botanical minds, as some shade plants were wilting in bright sunlight, while others, immured in deepest shadow, seemed to yearn for those selfsame rays. Flower beds showed a dozen blooms carefully spread at suggested intervals, with twice that many clumped in a handful of mounds, as impatient hands had clearly itched to be on with the next job.

And still, it was charming and bright and cheerful, with queer little touches in the crevices and recesses sculpted by piled stone and strategically-placed bushes. Here a small quiet pool floated lily pads and an iron frog, and around every corner was another small bit of statuary, some of them blending into the garden so well they were almost unobserved, like the stone turtle and rabbit that raced in one shady corner; and there a stone sun dial sprang from the surrounding flowers, occasioning an earnest lecture from an enchanted professor, who earned himself a kiss on the cheek from his beaming wife after he determined that it was just nearing eleven in the morning without glancing once at his watch, a feat that left young Dick quite dazzled.

Finally they were allowed into the one unexplored part, behind the charming stone wall, and what Mrs. Jo found there made her gasp in delight. The path into the nook led them over flat stepping stones set flush in the ground; and the wall created a quiet space, apart from the rest of the gardens, where, as Dick tripped over himself to explain, she could come and be quiet and alone, when she had need, and no one would disturb her, as long as she was there -- unless they were invited. It had a wooden bench, big enough for two, and perhaps a third, if he were quite small, and a specially devised holder on the back of the bench that was just the right size to hold her umbrella so that it could shade her as she sat, until the maple that had been planted grew to a size where it could take over the task. As she looked around, Mrs. Bhaer could tell that a great deal of thought had gone into the selection of plantings, as all of her favorites were in evidence, a riot of color and shape and form that gladdened her heart. And the animals had not been neglected, as several places on the ground and the wall and on poles were set aside for birdseed and corn and nuts and such things as might attract small creatures to approach.

And in the corner by the wall was the crowning adornment: a strange and wonderful fountain, clearly of Demi's influence, that had bits that spun and whirled in the water and the air, most fantastically, filling the nook with quiet and soothing sounds that quite delighted Mrs. Jo. So charmed was she that she kissed Dick's rosy cheek, and stood looking about her with quiet joy, already overwhelmed by the holiday her boys had given her.

Dick left them there together, to soak in the peace of that quiet spot, telling them that someone would come to fetch them soon. Mr. Bhaer tried out the bench and pronounced it capital, and indeed, he was quite impressed with the workmanship, recognizing Ned's handiwork. Holding out his hand and drawing his wife to him, he asked, "Has your terror quite abated, then, my Jo?"

She laughed, and sat beside him. "Perhaps not entirely, as we have the greater part of the day left to see what these scamps have devised, and I can't quite believe that Laurie had them completely whipped into submission -- as witness Tommy's birds, which I think were a surprise to everyone but himself and poor Billy. But this...  
We do have the dearest, sweetest bunch of rogues alive, don't we, Fritz?"

"Indeed we do, my dear," he said, slipping an arm around her waist to hold her close. "They want to bring that glow of pride to your face, and cannot bear to disappoint you."

She waved her hand in the air, leaning back against his shoulder and watching the birds drop down to drink from the fountain. "I only look for what's already in them, and we both work hard to bring it out. You strengthen their minds and souls, while I try to look after their hearts and bodies." She smiled up at him. "But they're the ones that do the hardest work; and to think that they spent so much of their time and effort on this--" Her voice broke slightly, and he hugged her tight, kissing the top of her head.

After that they sat quietly together, enjoying a span of time in each other's company that they were seldom able to afford during their usual busy, productive lives. Even working together in their home, they spent most of their time apart during the day, and their evenings were full with all the multitude of tasks, small and large, that go into raising so many boys of such different temperaments and personalities. This alone was a grace, to have this time together without distraction and interruption. Jo closed her eyes and hummed a favorite hymn, and soon she felt the vibration beneath her shoulder as her Friedrich joined her, singing softly in a rumbling bass.

It seemed no time at all before they heard a sweet tenor joining them, and they looked over to see Franz's smiling face. "Knock, knock, may I come in?" he asked. "I've come to escort you to the next point of your holiday, if you'll follow me, kind lady and gentleman."

Jo lazily got to her feet, and moved to take his arm as Mr. Bhaer retrieved her parasol from its stand. "With a will and a way!" she said laughingly. "Too long in this paradise and I'd forget all my lessons and virtues, and be nothing but an indolent blight on Plumfield school. Take care you and your brethren don't spoil me too far, my boy."

Franz laughed, and tossed a smiling glance over his shoulder. "I'm sure mine uncle would agree that you could use a fair share of spoiling, now and then, to pay back all the spoiling you hand round in your turn."

Their destination this time was the museum created through the additional efforts of young Mr. Lawrence, a place normally devoted to the small pleasures and hobbies of the rowdy boys of Plumfield. Jo burned with curiosity to know what transformations had been made here, and she was in no way disappointed. The museum was a museum still, but now it displayed many fine works of art, clearly crafted by a homegrown crop of artists, most of small talent, but great enthusiasm, and she treasured each piece that she was shown. Demi played curator for them, leading them about and giving them a small treatise on each item, with hilariously confabulated details about the tragic lives of the artists, and how the museum went to a very great deal of trouble to obtain such works, and at such great cost.

In contrast to his charming and elaborate tales, a card at each display was clearly labeled as to artist and medium, in a fine hand that showed Jo one thing with which Daisy had been occupying her time; and each child had at least one effort on display, if not more. Most were quite crude, if heartfelt, but Bess's small paintings were quite charming and artless, and Dan's collages of items he'd found in his rambles were striking, showing a sense of color and design that Mr. Bhaer made a note to encourage in some way.

Halfway through their tour, Mrs. Jo felt a firm tugging on her skirt, and turned to find young Teddy pulling upon her, quite urgently. "Haf' to come see mine!" he insisted, and would brook no delay, and so the tour was rerouted in order that the young artist could proudly display his own drawings, demonstrations of intensity over comprehensibility, and his "messes," misshapen clay pots that his mother promised to use for flowers as soon as her holiday was over, much to the joy of her proud offspring.

Upon leaving the museum they found the lane turned into a busy city thoroughfare, or as close as a dozen children, a pack of dogs, and one maniacal rascal pretending to be an adult could manage. A newsboy stood on the corner, calling out his prices for the daily paper, while an elegant lady rode in a donkey-driven carriage, her driver waving madly to his parents from his perch. Mrs. Shakespeare Smith and Mrs. Giddygaddy, apparently having chosen this time and place for their own holidays, perused displays of souvenirs hawked by eager vendors, under the sharp and canny eye of Jack Ford, while Kit and Pollux and Christopher Columbus and their own small band roamed the street, excitedly yipping and yapping, confused by the unusual tumult of the day.

The Bhaers strolled over to the tables and spent a lengthy period of time perusing all of the available wares, Mrs. Jo making it very clear that she had a great deal of money to spend, and a great many gifts to purchase. She and Jack had a grand time bargaining, each trying for the sharpest deal, as Jo examined Dick and Dolly's willow whistles, and whirligigs and contraptions clearly from Demi's hand. What enchanted her most were a package of painted postcards, each signed by one of her dear ones, and she was so charmed by them that she didn't have the heart to even try and get a better value.

As they shopped, a street band played on the corner, composed of Nat on the fiddle, Ned on a pocket comb, and Rob on his own toy drum, banging enthusiastically, if not quite in rhythm with the rest. When they finished their purchases, they strolled on to listen to the music, and as they stood, a young errand boy came scampering up with his fists full of "flowers for the pitty lady," then quite ruined the effect by giggling and pulling off his hat, crying, "It's me, Marmar! It's your Teddy!"

At the end of the street, under a widespread tree, a table was set for two, with flowers and a checkered cloth, and they were urged to sit for a spell, and have a small brunch, as lunch itself would not be until later. The street cleared out quickly, leaving them alone again until lemonade and small cakes were brought by Mrs. Giddygaddy, who told them confidingly that Daisy was quite beside herself in the kitchen, trying to make sure that nothing was forgotten. She stood and chatted with them for quite a long while, only to called back on duty by a somewhat frantic "Nan?" that sounded from the direction of the house. Bobbing in place and giving her apologies, she fled.

After that they sat there for some short time, cast adrift and waiting, everything strangely peaceful save for the now-and-then slamming of doors and the occasional errant boy who came out, poked about in odd places, and ran back inside. Mrs. Jo, knowing something was up, grew increasingly anxious, and was on the verge of marching off to find out when Mr. Bhaer laid a hand on her arm. "Softly, my dear. This is as much their day as it is their day for you, and if there is any worry, they are not alone. Laurie and Asia, Silas, even Franz, are close at hand, and if they need us, they will come."

Not entirely soothed or convinced, she subsided into her chair, picked up a cake, and twiddled it to bits without tasting a bite, sorry that she'd ever asked the Lord for an extra measure of patience, for it seemed that His humor was such that the request was always answered with further opportunities to practice that maddening virtue.

After twenty minutes or so of this, Tommy Bangs came hurtling out to the table, looking determined. "Begging your pardon, ma'am, sir, apologies for the delay, but if you'll come with me!"

Suspicious still, but knowing no better, and encouraged onward by her husband's gentle nod, Mrs. Bhaer allowed herself to be led to the dock on the pond; and there Tommy helped her, somewhat awkwardly, into the paddle boat, Mrs. Jo thanking her stars that she made it in without a drenching. Mr. Bhaer made his own way in, and then Tommy clambered by them, clutching a long pole, and made his way to the front of the small boat. It was clear that this was the boys' attempt to reproduce the gondolas of Venice, and while a valiant attempt, it lacked a bit in the execution.

What the Bhaers did not know, and Tommy forebore to explain, was that it had been Emil's chosen and prized duty to pole them across, as boats were his pride and joy; and he had practiced hours at the task, achieving a skill and speed that were to be envied. Tommy himself had taken a few turns, when Emil deigned to let him, and had felt that it was most unfair that the "Commodore" should get the best gig, simply because of his personal inclinations, but there it was -- until, by some twist of fate, the day was tied in a knot, leaving Emil busily occupied elsewhere and giving Tommy his chance.

Poor young Teddy, worn by his exertions, was further dismayed by being prevented him from going to his "Marmar" as he pleased; and Daisy and Nan, charged with his care, were busy and distracted in the kitchen under Asia's steely eye. Without a mindful gaze on him, the wayward boy had wandered through the house, forgetting that he himself had recently seen his parents outside, and unable to find his Danny; and he finally curled up in a corner behind a couch with Kit, sound asleep, missing the increasingly frantic calls as more and more laborers joined in the search, Emil included.

Tommy hunted a bit, but realizing the lateness of the hour, decided that his time would be better spent poling the Bhaers across the pond, to the place Dan and Nat waited to guide them through a nature walk and thence to their picnic lunch. At first things went smoothly, for a pole length or three. Unfortunately, Tommy's experience had been with himself in the boat alone; and while the Bhaer's added weight did not greatly change the manner of steering, it did require slightly greater exertion, in a way Tommy had not foreseen, and for which he therefore did not compensate. In short, trying for brisk speed over a gentle meander, Tommy thrust the pole into the base of the pond vigorously (for it was not truly deep), and did not account for the depth of mud into which he sank said pole. He did note that it took a bit more force to bring the pole up, but still he was caught off guard when the pole refused to return at all.

At first it seemed that young Mister Bangs should simply turn loose his grip of the pole, but this did not consider his determination to do the job so well that the Commodore could lodge no complaint against him. This resolve had him holding to the stubborn pole past the point of wisdom, not even thinking to release it; and it being a springy sort of pole, and now firmly rooted, it pulled back as the boat moved onward, and Tommy found himself dragged from the boat, first clinging to the pole, and then dropping into the cold spring water as the pole reached its limit and snapped.

The Bhaers had a bad moment or two, as well, as the small boat rocked back from the force of Tommy's departure, but it soon steadied itself after only taking on a bucketful or two of water, wetting their shoes and the edges of Mrs. Jo's skirt, which she quickly gathered up around her knees. The greater crisis was that in his confidence in his poling abilities, Emil had left the regular oars on the shore, and Tommy had not thought them necessary. So there the Bhaers sat, stranded in the middle of the pond, which, though not on the large side, was reasonably so when one was sitting in the middle of it with no way to reach any land. Tommy himself, an able if inelegant swimmer, was paddling for the dock.

Mrs. Jo buried her head in her skirt and howled, laughter again bringing tears to her eyes. Her gaiety was contagious, and soon Mr. Bhaer's own deep laugh also rumbled out across the water. When she'd caught her breath, she looked around, and then turned to her husband. "Well, Fritz, here we are."

He nodded, still chuckling, and squeezed her shoulder. "I doubt we shall be here long; they are nothing if not resourceful, and Tommy has already reached land."

From their position they could see Dan and Nat across the pond, clearly appalled, but helpless. It was not long, however, before they saw Emil striding for shore, a bedraggled Tommy at his heels. Thankfully there was another small boat, and in this Emil and Tommy set sail, the latter having clearly gotten the other to accept his presence, explained by the younger boy's clutching a second pair of oars, so that both boats could be returned to land. It was a matter of moments before Emil came alongside, and his sea-worthy legs soon had him transferred to the stranded craft, while Tommy was sent off in dripping disgrace.

Getting himself shipshape, Emil turned the boat in the proper direction and soon had them scudding across the water, at a trimmer pace than when a more leisurely excursion had been planned. He was clearly in a temper. "Apologies, Aunt, Uncle. Young Teddy went missing -- he's fine, Aunt, just found himself a place for a nap -- and when it was discovered, everything else was thrown off kilter. Mind you, I'll give Tommy Bangs what for--"

"Oh, I think he's been punished enough," his aunt laughed. "Nothing like a public dousing and a failed matter of pride to squelch a young ego," she said. "And he meant well." She grinned sunnily at them both, quite having the best time she'd had in ages, damp feet notwithstanding.

"This is why they love you so well, my Jo. You still have your own wild young thing inside, and she has such sympathy!"

"I do remember what it was like, having an idea and rushing headlong into it without judging its merits or reliability," she agreed. "As well as remembering the humiliation of falling flat on my face, when I misjudged it badly. I can't help but be kind to someone like Tommy, whose heart is so good, and whose judgment so poor."

Emil looked shame-faced at this, and allowed as how he expected she was right. "He was doing fine with the poling on his own," he admitted. "It's sliding in behind a chap's back that gets me riled."

Mrs. Jo patted his knee as they neared the far shore where Dan and Nat waited. "That was poorly done, but in his own mind I'm sure he had it turned around that he was doing you a favor, with you busy hunting Teddy. Still, it's a fair point; and it's something I'll bring up with him later."

Emil splashed into the water to steady the boat, this side having no landing, while Dan and Nat each held out a hand for Mrs. Jo as she clambered out of the boat, Mr. Bhaer close behind, using his nephew's strong shoulder to brace himself.

With his commission duly discharged, Emil returned the way he came, saluting them with his cap before setting to at high speed.

"I hope everything's all right at the house," Nat said earnestly. "Dan was about ready to set off to find out why you were so late, when we saw you heading our way, and then..."

"Yes, and then," Mrs. Jo laughed. "Teddy apparently took himself off without permission and caused quite an uproar," she explained. "Now, what do you lads have in store for us?" she asked, shaking out her damp skirts.

"I'm off to meet the carriage," Nat said, "which is to bring-- Well, anyway, I'm off, and Dan--" and here he paused to smile brilliantly at his friend, "--Dan has things to show you that are ever so splendid."

Dan shrugged, but he was clearly pleased. "Don't know that they're all that, but I have some things in mind. There's a lot around here that people just don't notice. Mr. Hyde got me started, but I've learned a lot on my own, and-- And I should just show you! Ready, then?"

He squeezed Nat's shoulder in passing as the younger boy scrambled up toward the passing road, then led the Bhaer's off on a cross-country tour; and they were indeed delighted with what he'd found. Nests of finches and flickers, warblers and towhees and chickadees, and burrows of badgers and woodchucks and shrews that you could walk right past within spitting distance and never see; iridescent tiger beetles, dragonflies and damselflies, and multi-colored fungi, and as they reached the river itself, charming little nooks where a brook came tumbling down to meet the greater water, and deep fishing pools where you could see the lurking behemoths beneath.

And for each he had a story, something about how the animals lived, or what the beetles did, or how the river came to be a winding mess instead of a tidy straight line. As a crowning touch, he had found Mrs. Jo a perfect climbing tree, a tall and sturdy beech, with good handholds, and her husband watched in bemused adoration as she kilted up her skirts and set to it with a will. In no time at all, she was up as far as she could go, looking around and calling down in delight. Dan ran to fetch her hat when it slipped off and went flying; and when she came down she hugged Dan so tight he laughed, and he grinned like a fool as she hugged Mr. Bhaer just as tightly.

"I can't imagine why I gave this up," she said, laughing. "Dignity and respectability, pshaw. Highly overrated when compared to climbing trees."

"What you are thinking of is pomposity, dear one, not true dignity," said the Professor, tying her hat back on her head. "Your worth is such that you could never lose the respect of those who love you."

Her smile softened into such sweet affection that Dan almost felt an intruder, save that Jo saw him, and reaching out, pulled him into her embrace again. "Thank you, Dan, that was tremendous fun."

The look of pleasure and approval in her eyes determined him to never again see disappointment or shame in them, at least on his account. And perhaps if he managed that, he'd someday find someone to look at him as Mrs. Bhaer looked at her husband.

"I had no idea there was so much so close to the house," Mrs. Jo exclaimed, hugging Dan's arm to her and looking about when they finally paused near a widening of the river. "Fritz, he's learned so much, he should take the boys and give a lesson on what he's learned, or put together a paper on the area for their museum nights. It's so interesting as he tells it, and not as dry as it can be when you must learn it from books." Dan looked delighted and abashed by her praise, and ducked his head.

"That's where I learned it," he objected. "There's nothing I could tell 'em that they can't get themselves."

"True, but the boys listen to you when you talk, which is why we've worked so hard, you and I, to put a watch on what you show and tell them. You have a way with you, and you can turn them to good works or ill, however you choose, if you put your mind to it," she said. "Just look at young Nat. He'd follow you anywhere, and you've proved yourself worthy of his trust and love."

Dan blushed again, looking down, and then off across the river. "And he of mine, though he deserves better," he roughly said.

"I'll let him be the judge of that," Mrs. Jo said briskly, gathering her skirts again in her hands, as Dan began climbing up the gentle rise to the bank above. "He seems a good enough judge of character to me, for he brought you to us."

* * *

Awaiting them above the river was a sight to behold: a carpet laid under a spreading tree, with a linen-covered table, upon which were arrayed candlesticks and flowers, and a picnic repast that once again taxed their appetites to their limits, even aided as they were by their walking tour. Dan seated Mrs. Jo in a damask-covered chair, and Stuffy was there to serve as waiter, helping them to fried chicken, sandwiches and salads, cakes _and_ pies, and a variety of fruit, including pineapple, a rare and delicious treat that Mrs. Jo savored down to the licking of her fingers. The chicken was only slightly overcooked, and one cake seemed to be lacking some essential ingredient, but all in all it was a most successful meal, accompanied by Nat on his fiddle, playing them all the suitable songs he had in his repertoire, garnered from many other picnics during the previous season.

Dan sat with his back to a nearby tree, closing his eyes and listening, waiting for the carriage that would take the Bhaers riding, before driving them home for the closing events of the day. After finishing their meal, the Bhaers themselves lay back on a blanket spread to the side, after Jo tidily packed away the remnants of their repast, and watched the clouds crossing the sky, her hand tucked lightly in his. A soft breeze, a cheery tune, and in no time at all, Mr. Bhaer was dozing, and Mrs. Jo sat up and wrapped her arms around her knees, watching him with a fond smile.

When the carriage arrived, an open-air vehicle loaned by the Lawrences, with a pair of fine horses and Franz at their heads, Dolly helped Mrs. Jo up the steps, and off they went. Mr. Bhaer was still a bit logy and heavy-headed, but the fresh air soon perked him up. They were companionably silent during the journey, which showed off the horses' good temperaments and the carriage's fine springs, giving them a smooth and pleasant ride. They were gone quite some time, and most enjoyable it was, for the countryside was lovely, and it wasn't often the Bhaers had a chance to see it like this, with no one to account for, in a conveyance of a luxury far beyond their normal means.

When they returned to the house, it was to see the porch decorated in equally fine style to the picnic they had just left, right down to the same table and carpet. Demi came out to seat them in grand fashion, this time with his frock coat turned front side around. The meal was full tea, with several removes, the type of tea changing with each course. Dolly once again served as head waiter, ably assisted by Stuffy, and only one small pot of tea was spilled, and two plates of pastries dropped. They began with a savory course of small sandwiches and appetizers, followed by scones and clotted cream, and ending with several types of cakes, cookies, and shortbread. The Bhaers ate lightly, still replete from their picnic lunch, and were confident that the happy gleam in George's eye meant the leftovers would not go to waste.

During the course of the meal various crashes and clunks were heard from within, in the direction of the schoolrooms, and the occasional boy or girl popped her head out to wave, as if checking to see that the Bhaers had survived so far. Mrs. Jo was quite dazzled by the planning and exertion that had gone into the day they had already had, and could only imagine what might be left in store. When tea was complete, and the young waiters assured that their patrons couldn't possibly consume another drop of tea or crumb of shortbread, they were left to walk the gardens again, until called to change for the evening's entertainment. Dick confided in them that there would be a supper, as well, but that it might be quite late, which Mrs. Jo assured him would not be a problem.

"I must say," she said, as they strolled in the garden, "I had no that excursionists were so well-fed! I'm quite surprised that they don't all come home with new wardrobes, fitted to their expanded girths."

Mr. Bhaer patted his own comfortably-sized breadth. "I suspect that most of them do not have such relentless cooks and attendants."

"We shall have to find some suitable reward for Asia, for allowing the abuse of her sanctum. Perhaps a holiday of her own."

Mr. Bhaer patted her hand, tucked again in the crook of his elbow. An occasional shout was heard from the direction of the house, but they were by now well-trained to ignore any such chaos, at least for the rest of the day. They spent the time talking of the boys, at least at first, but the picnic had reminded Mr. Bhaer of events of his childhood, and soon he was regaling her with stories of his homeland and family, pleased as always by her genuine interest and inquiring mind.

They were left alone for some time, and their conversation had moved on to the dreams they had for their boys and girls, and how they might accomplish them. Dan was to go that summer with Mr. Hyde on his tramps, and though he would be deeply missed, by Nat in particular, Mrs. Jo knew it was time for him to start to find his place in the world, though he might be back for another year, if he would. And Nat himself was to be away for the summer, studying music with a learned teacher, arranged by Mr. Laurie, who still had a soft spot for the boy he'd sent to find a home with them. Franz was off to college, though he had plans to return to his uncle's side and teach at Plumfield, and Emil's sea was so close he could taste it, pouring all his spare time into practicing with a sextant, studying the stars and navigation, determined to be ready as soon as he turned sixteen.

Others, such as Ned, would soon be off as well, to rise or fail as they would, but the sound start provided by the love and trust the Bhaers could not help but give was as good a start as any young man had in this world. The younger ones were off to their own homes, if they had them, for a spell, before returning for lessons the next term. Demi and Daisy would stay with their mother for a month or more, continuing the healing that the year had slowly wrought to that bereaved family. For a time, the Bhaers would have a smaller herd, and life at Plumfield would be devoted to summer play and family fun, as well as going over the property to see what needed care and attention before they were caught up in the busy life of an active school again.

All in all, the Bhaers were feeling heart-rich and justly proud of their time spent and their mortal crop as they talked and shared, each one thinking in their own way that such a thing would never have been possible without the other. Together they were more, and could do more, than either had ever dreamed of alone; and it was this and their love for each other that provided such a sterling foundation and example for those they gathered to them.

It seemed no time at all before they were fetched back to the house to change, and as they were ushered back downstairs, realized that in their occupation with each other, they had missed the arrival of many dear friends and family, as their entrance into the schoolroom showed them an audience already near-filled with Marches and Lawrences and Brookes, as well as Nan's father, and those neighbors as the boys thought might enjoy the spectacle planned.

Billy Ward stood at the door, handing out a program to each as they entered, which listed such things as "A recitation," or "A display of physical prowess, with swords," or "An extravaganza of magnificent proportions, one night only!" which seemed to be the crowning touch on the pageant, as evidenced by the size of the lettering and its placement at the end of the list.

Curtains were hung across one end of the room, of a different quality altogether than the bed curtains the boys had used in the past, with chairs arranged in rows before it. And when the draperies were drawn, a fine stage was revealed, upon which the pageant unfolded.

It was clear that this was something they had worked on for weeks, together and in groups, as each student had multiple parts, and each strove to outdo the others in presentation and style, and to do their teachers and loved ones proud. Even sweet, feeble Billy had his place, as Nat coaxed him through his alphabet, of which he missed the greater portion and had to be reminded, but the applause it earned him left him stunned and rosy-red with pleasure.

Demi quite won the show, at least among the quieter sort of displays, with the queerest, most whimsical tale of Sinbad, cast among elves and goblins, fighting dragons and wild bears with great valor and ferocity; but it was Nat who left them all breathless with the playing of a piece of his own composition, which he called simply 'Mother Bhaer,' and which quite had her in tears again at its unadorned heartfelt beauty.

There were demonstrations of fencing and boxing and wrestling, and Emil and Ned and Demi did a very fine sailor's hornpipe; and the older boys reduplicated their display of gymnastics, with Nan joining, because no one dared keep her out. Although Mrs. Jo averted her eyes and would not observe Nan's father during that portion, reminding herself of Mr. Bhaer's thoughts on dignity.

And towards the end they had a circus, with Nan and Tommy juggling, and they did very well, for all that nearly half their pins found their way to the floor now and then; and one careless attempt on Tommy's part to shift a pin back into play with his foot led to near disaster, the pin careening out into the audience and nearly clubbing Nan's father in the head. Then Nan walked a wire, drawn between two ladders, spotted by Emil and Franz, although the wire was actually a board that bowed a bit as she reached the middle. Demi the lion-tamer displayed his animals, with elephants and bears and camels, which pranced and cavorted about the stage. And then the whole devolved into an alarming spectacle containing soldiers and Indian chiefs, pirates and wild beasts, and a great deal of spirit and gore, which left most everyone dead or dying on the ground in the end.

And during it all, the Professor held his wife's hand quite captured in his lap, his thumb stroking sweetly over her palm and bringing a blush to her cheek. He leaned towards her so that their shoulders brushed, and if his eyes more often settled on her laughing features than on the excitements and spectacles performed for them, no one could have faulted him, nor told such based on the thunderous applause he gave each child and every performance.

* * *

The length of the pageant made for a very late supper indeed, the crowning touch of which (as far as the children were concerned) was cabbage soup with herrings and cherries, for the Professor had more than once been heard to wistfully remember this favorite of his childhood. And if the result was not quite as remembered, he betrayed no reluctance or lack of appetite in his consumption, for the thoughtfulness of the gesture was in no way lost on him. Other soups and bread and butter and deserts were available for all, and it was a chatty, companionable meal, spread out through the dining room and entryway and porch, for it was a warm, seasonable night, and Laurie had had Chinese lanterns strewn through the garden, casting a gentle light.

The children remained over-excited, unable to settle as their weeks of activity and planning wound to a successful close. Many were eager to talk about it now, as they had been so good and worked so hard to keep it secret all along. All clamored to be heard, wanting their share of praise and accolades, and to venture opinions as to how things had gone, and what were the favorite parts. One voice piped up that the best bit was having had no chores that day, Mr. Laurie having arranged things with Silas beforehand. The boy in question clearly didn't consider that the surprise had required far more time and effort and sweat than would have been needed for all the usual chores the boys performed put together.

"And we gave up our pillow fight!" declared Tommy, who clearly felt that this was a sacrifice deserving special recognition.

Eventually the smallest boys shuffled off to their baths, which they had argued quite strenuously should also be skipped, on this day of days; but these arguments faltered and fell away under the stern gaze of Nursey Hummel, who along with Mary Ann was quite determined that the boys should come into the Sabbath scrubbed clean from head to toe. They were allowed to come back down and watch some of the dancing, as Nat picked up his fiddle again, Mr. Laurie took the piano, and everyone was encouraged to work off a little of their built-up energy swinging a partner around for a bit.

But all pleasures eventually end, if only so they can be picked up again later, and so did the day, successful beyond even Mr. Laurie's wildest dreams, let alone those of the boys and girls he'd conspired with. Mrs. Jo made sure to take each of her children aside, even her oldest boy, and make sure they knew how very, very much she had enjoyed the gift, and how very proud she was of them. Each was left with the feeling that their part had been the very most essential, the most special, part of the whole, and Mr. Laurie himself, her first boy, was left with a damp shirtfront, as well, as the final tears of the day were shed during his session.

"You work miracles, Teddy."

He shook his head. "You and the professor work miracles, Jo; I merely provided the idea and the means to let your miracles show you how treasured you are."

Further words were impossible at that, and though her dignity might not have suffered, her pride was a little soggy when Laurie led her back to her husband. "Here she is, Professor, only a little worse for the wear. If we do this again, I should probably invest in the wholesale manufacture of handkerchiefs, the way she's gone through 'em. And she was such a sensible girl," the last tossed over his shoulder as he made his escape, narrowly missing a kicked-up foot and hard-flung glare of reproach.

Mr. Bhaer settled her beside him. "You are well, sweetheart?"

She patted his knee, sniffing into Laurie's kerchief, which she'd stolen. "I am very well, indeed," she sniffled, looking bedraggled and altogether lovely to his eyes. "I've never had such a day."

"Nor have I. It was most pleasant to spend such time with you," he said.

She smiled and leaned against his shoulder. "It was."

They took a short break from the party, to console Teddy for their long absence from his side, and to tuck him and his brother into bed, promising a return to routine the next day. "I'm mos' tard, Marmar," baby Teddy murmured, already turning into sleep. Kissing his cheek, and brushing her lips over Rob's already drowsing brow, she left them to dreams, and returned down the stairs with her husband, thinking that she would want her own bed before long.

"It's quite surprising how tired being feted and entertained can leave one," she said, as they took their places on the couch, bidding the older boys good night as they trooped off for their own baths, and bed. "I believe I shall sleep well tonight."

They were silent together for a while, watching their friends and family talk and laugh and dance. And then Laurie and Fritz were helping her rise, as she'd dozed off against the professor's shoulder. "I should clean up a bit, not leave it all," she said sleepily.

Laurie kissed her temple, and pushed her toward the stairs. "It will all be spotless and ship-shape when you wake up. What kind of a ringleader would I be, if I did not fold up my tents and pack up my belongings before stealing away? This was your day," he added gently. "Let me take care of the rest of it."

When she was lying warm in her bed, tucked in herself by a loving husband, who then tucked himself in beside her, she stretched and wriggled and finally gave out a big, contented sigh. "It was a lovely, lovely day. Long, but unforgettable." She slipped her hand into Fritz's. "I think I shan't want another holiday for a while," she said, smiling into the dark.

"No?" he responded, with a curious tone in his voice.

She turned her head towards him, and he rolled to face her. "What are you thinking?" she asked.

"I..." He hesitated, thoughtfully, rather than reluctantly. "I'm thinking that perhaps it would not be such a bad thing to take Laurie up on his generous offer. It is not something I may ever be able to afford to do myself, to show you such things."

She squeezed his hand and shook it slightly. "It's nothing I need!" she declared. "I once had a child's dream of traveling, but I am happy here in my home, and I need nothing more."

"Mmmm, I believe this and you show me this every day. But... I think perhaps I would like you to have the other, too. To show you things you dreamed of -- to show you my homeland. Where my family lived, and where I grew up." He had much enjoyed telling her stories of his childhood, and it had woken in him a subtle desire to show her the reality, to be with her in the places where he had become a man.

She blinked, and turned her head to look back up at the ceiling, squeezing his hand to let him know that she'd heard him. "I'd never thought of that." His stories had touched her deeply, but she'd heard them only as stories, in some ways, forgetting that to the man, they were his life.

He shrugged, as if it were a thing of no consequence. "It is not a burning desire, something I cannot bear to live without, but... It would be a good thing, something I would enjoy."

She was silent for a time, considering. "It would be hard to be away from my boys," Mrs. Jo said.

"Perhaps it will do both you and them well to be apart for a spell, for then you will cherish each other all the more," said her Professor, never saying that he himself might enjoy a time apart, to rest his own mind and spirit, but Jo knew this, as she knew the rest of his heart. "You take no time for yourself, or very little."

"Speaks the pot to the kettle," she teased. "We both love our work. It sustains us, and we wouldn't be happy if we were idle."

"No, this is true, but sometimes the soul needs refreshment and rest, before turning to work once more," he said simply.

She turned into the warmth of his body, and pulled his arm across her, resting her head on his shoulder. "I think I would very much like to have you show me such things," she said gently, knowing now how much it meant to him. You are very wise, Friedrich. And there's very little that you ask for."

He held her close. "I have all I need here close to me."

She kissed his cheek. "You love me far better than I deserve."

"And again I remind you, you are an estimable woman, but a poor judge of your own worth, particularly your value to me, which is without price," he said tenderly.

She had thought she was through with tears for the day, but Friedrich's unadorned sentiment touched her so deeply that she felt them well in her eyes again. "I never thought to be so loved, by so many, and so well. It makes me proud, and I fear that it will go to my head."

She felt his deep laugh rumble through him. "Never fear, my love. The good Lord himself will keep you humble, should you threaten otherwise. And, I think, as long as you can throw your concern about the regard of others to the wind and climb a tree as you did today, you are safe from undue pride."

"Dan thought very well of me," she pointed out, laughter in her voice.

"As did I!" he declared. "But it is that very childlike aspect you hold onto that will save you, as the Lord intends."

"Whosoever shall not receive the kingdom of God as a little child, he shall not enter therein."

"Yes, and it is that child in you that allows you to be such a good mother to the children, to understand them when they fall, to help them stand up and grow strong. You are open to joy, and to love, and you share what you find."

"As I found you."

Fritz found himself breathless beside her, too moved to speak, so he simply gathered her to him, to show what he could not say.

And later, they slept and refreshed their bodies and minds, to wake to a new day, wherein they would seek joy together, and teach others to do the same, knowing that love is not a thing to be held tight within, but to be shared and spread widely, and recklessly squandered, encouraging a response from all.

fin

 


End file.
